


Rivals In Love

by lemon lin (Citrusgrape)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ???? - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Same goes for more relationships and character cameos, Slow To Update, This is an excuse not to clean my room basically, tags will be added as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citrusgrape/pseuds/lemon%20lin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled '1 + 1 = 4?'</p>
<p>In which Ladybug comes clean about something personal and Chat Noir sort of lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Nothing of Note Happens

**Author's Note:**

> Alright idk what I'm doing I haven't written fanfiction in a solid forever but this show has inspired me and the fanfiction writers for this fandom have inspired me and I guess I just want to give back in a way. In my fic they don't do regular patrols yet, so Chat's response makes a little more sense with that in mind. I mean, he's still a blubbering mess but at least he's got an excuse.

The day seemed rather monotonous and bland, at first. Adrien woke up at six, groggily brushed his teeth in an ornate mirror and stuck his foamy toothbrush under the faucet of the avant-garde basin. His wild bangs went damp with droplets of water as he splashed his face and blindly felt for his washcloth. His hair was tamed, his skin made flawless by his vigorous moisturizing anti-acne routine, and his bags under his eyes erased by the slightest dot of concealer (which was tailored perfectly to his creamy skin tone). The whole endeavor was tedious, leaving Adrien looking like he woke up flawless and didn’t spend an entire twenty minutes on his ‘natural image.’ He would probably be less bitter about it all if the care he put into his image was of his own volition. But, looking at his blank reflection, he was only poignantly reminded that he had no say in his morning routine and no say in any other aspect in life. Except…

While he rummaged around his room of a closet to find an in season shirt, he looked fondly over to Plagg. The kwami was still curled into a tight, black ball and buried in a silk cushion on his desk. Where Adrien found the notion of lavish life uncomfortable, Plagg had no troubles acclimating to the high thread counts and gourmet cheeses that surrounded him. Sometimes, Adrien looked at it as a skewed exchange: the freedom of Chat Noir for all the luxuries that were so smothering. It made him a little guilty to think how much Plagg does for him, but all that guilt dissipated in a flash at the sound of his kwami’s keening complaints about the lack of Camembert in the room.

With a sigh, Adrien bated Plagg into his backpack with a slice of cheese and slid the bands of fabric over his shoulders, succinctly starting his school day. Collége kept him going when Ladybug wasn’t around, and the thought of seeing Nino, Alya, and Marinette in class put a small smile on his otherwise tired face. Sliding into the overpriced and immaculate car out front, he laid down on the leather upholstery and closed his eyes. He mumbled out quiet conversation with his driver, a sweet and overwhelmingly muscular man whose chest threatened to tear the fabric of his black button down shirt. Halfway to school, the burly man gently handed Adrien an orange, which he gratefully ate for breakfast. It always seemed like the man knew when Adrien would forget to eat. That, or he had a secret endless supply of various fruits and yoghurts stashed away in the bottomless glove compartment. 

It was always heartwarming to see Nino waiting in the schoolyard for Adrien to pull up, his eyes squinting at the tinted windows of the car in an attempt to see Adrien’s silhouette. After that initial thump of Nino’s hand between Adrien’s shoulder blades and a quick greeting, the day became a blur of answering questions and small talk between classmates. There was a moment of clarity when Adrien caught the way Marinette smirked at Alya when she thought he wasn’t looking, and how straight her posture was. Her neck was quite elegant when she exposed it, instead of hunching into herself whenever he so much as glanced her way. With a sigh, he averted his side-glance and lamented his (father’s) career choice of being a model. He’d always figured Marinette either was intimidated by him or had a thing for him; he wasn’t naïve. She always tripped over her words or herself when he approached her, and her eyes had the same look of awe that he so disliked in his female fans. It made him feel more like a statue or a pretty doll than a person. However, there was something different about Marinette, seeing as she had a blindingly wonderful personality when Adrien wasn't their to dampen it. It frustrated him, how amazing and wonderful she could be when around literally anyone else, and how ostracizing it was to be the only person excluded from that amazingness. He thunked his head on the table and could practically hear Marinette jump behind him, making the thoughts spelunking around in his head even more real. Soon enough, the blur of everyday life resumed, and he found himself vacantly running through the motions. 

And then, the windows blew in and glass scattered across the floor. 

There was a beat of silence before panic settled into the room, kids flinging themselves through the exit door in a screaming stampede. The air was filled with maniacal laughter as a wind began to whip through the room, making Adrien shudder with the chill of it. He pushed his way through the crowd and slipped into the men’s room, pulling Plagg out of his backpack. “Plagg, transforme moi!” A familiar tingle of power washed through him as he painted on his mask with his fingers and extended his claws, his belt tail whipping around his legs. “Yesssss,” he whispered to himself, pumping his fist in the air. “Looks cool every time.” He waltzed out of the bathroom and into the fray, casually ducking out of the way of errant ballasts and the preceding blasts of fire.

He caught sight of Ladybug cartwheeling towards him, her face somewhat amused. “Hot Air Balloonist feeling spiteful due to his balloon getting impounded,” she supplied before Chat could even ask. “He can create blasts of wind and fire, and he has a bunch of sandbags for good measure. I don’t think that’s even a part of his powers, he just… has them.” She seemed in good spirits, which put Chat in good spirits, and he grinned from ear to ear.

“Well, bugaboo, I’ll keep him entertained and you find what’s been akumatized,” he chirped, already walking towards an open window and locking on to the raging figure outside. Extending his baton, he arced out of the window and landed on the ground below. “HEY AIRHEAD,” he taunted, leaning on his staff sassily. “Feeling _winded_ already?”

A gust of air punched Chat directly in the solar plexus, making him double over in pain. He winced at the accuracy of the hit before he pretended to be just stretching, a sly look on his face. “I guess we’re just warming up, then?” The next gust of air he saw coming, and he slid out of its path before immediately deflecting a sandbag with his baton. “I can’t _sand_ it when you do that, man. It feels like you’re just _weighing_ me down,” Chat sighed out exasperatedly, bending backwards to avoid a blast of fire. It just barely singed the hair over his forehead and he could smell the smoke undoubtedly curling off of his forehead. “UNCOOL, THAT WAS BOTH LITERALLY AND METAPHORICALLY UNCOOL OF YOU,” he shouted, feverishly patting down his golden locks in case any flames managed to continue burning. “That hair better grow back,” he grumbled more to himself than his adversary, swinging at the Hot Air Balloonist’s side. “I have a meeting with L’Oreal at 5 tomorrow and they better think I’m worth it.”

“Chat,” Ladybug called, her hands cupped over her mouth. “The hot air balloon bolo tie!” Chat tried to grab at it, but was intercepted by a sandbag pushing him forcibly to the side and pining him to the ground under its weight. In the back of his mind, he heard the words ‘lucky charm!’ as he struggled and shimmied under his restraint. By the time he had slid free, Ladybug was holding a red and black polka dotted wicker basket, a miniature of the ones usually floating through the air. “Keep him distracted!” she ordered, her body already in motion as she grabbed her yoyo from her side and made a beeline for the hose attached to the side of the school’s edifice. With a quick “got it!” Chat was on the move, spinning his baton over his head as he rushed forward and fought the Balloonist in close combat. Every time he was pushed back by a gust of wind or dodged a stream of fire, he would just run right back in, foolhardily unaware of any damage he might have taken. At least the stupid sandbags were over and done with, he thought to himself, making a swing at his opponent that found no purchase. 

Suddenly, the wicker basket was pulled over the man’s face and the hose was used like a rope to secure it. Ladybug’s yoyo hogtied the man’s hands and legs. Chat whistled lowly in respect as he placed a hand on his hip and looked down at the now incapacitated akuma. The bolo tie was too hard to break over Ladybug’s knee, so Chat summoned cataclysm and watched the hypnotic dance of Ladybug’s little cleansing ritual. It never ceased to amaze him, how lithe she could be as she flung the basket into the air and let her healing light fix every window and mend Chat’s singed hairline. He rolled his shoulders before giving Ladybug a fist bump. “Oh! Before you go,” she started, the words slipping out of her mouth like the most beautiful song. “Can we meet up tonight?”

Chat felt his entire body tense, a blush dusting his face as he processed her words. She wanted to meet him? Tonight? They were going to meet up, and without any akumas to fight or hawkmoth to split them up? No five-minute timer to hurry either of their words? Was he dreaming? Smartly, he stuttered out a nervous laugh and choked out something along the lines of 'when and where.'

She was looking at him funny, probably unused to the very not suave way Chat was blushing his brains out while trying to tame the akumas fluttering in his stomach. “Notre Dame at 8 tonight. Hey, are you feeling oka—“

“SOUNDS GREAT!” he squeaked rather loudly, giving an awkward thumbs up. I’ll, uhhh, see you them, I mean then,” he muttered out, punctuating every word with a finger gun in her direction. “Okay gotta go bye.” He slipped back into the school building and stumbled into the nearest utility closet, panting like he just ran a marathon. “What am I, Marinette?” he grumbled, smacking a palm to his head as his transformation left him. Adrien closed the door behind him, slumping against the frame. “I think I finally understand what it’s like to walk in her shoes.”

“W-who’s shoes?” came the quiet response. With the way his body jumped, she thought she might have given him a heart attack. “Also, why were you in, uh,” her eyes slid to the closet, eyebrows knitted together quizzically. “There?”

There was a beat of silence, in which Marinette’s face went from simply blushing to tomato red. “No one’s shoes and I was… hiding from the akuma.” Wow, Adrien, great lying skills right there, he admonished to himself, looking anywhere but Marinette’s big baby blue eyes. “Welp, walk with me to class?” he offered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“EEP,” Marinette squeaked out, her shoulders squeezing towards her neck. “Sure! Definitely! Absolutely!” She walked next to him like a ludicrously happy wind up toy and he relaxed a little bit, sending her a small smile. Maybe her clammy social skills around him weren’t such a curse after all. Maybe, just maybe, they were kind of cute.


	2. In Which Marinette is Escorted Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing plot based yeettttttt, but I feel bad about how seriously I'm taking that 'slow to update' tag so here's a bit of hold over till I can finish the talk at Notre Dame! Hope you like it, make sure to kudos/comment/bookmark if you do, and I hope to see you soon!

It took every fiber of his self-restraint to sit silently through every one of his classes, knowing that he would see Ladybug outside out of combat. He rested his cheek in one hand, a giddy smile hurting his face with its intensity. Nino gave Adrien more than one or two inquisitive looks at his behavior, but he was too busy daydreaming of time spent on tiled rooftops and stranger’s balconies. A soft sigh of happiness escaped his lips, as he mindlessly answered Mme. Bustier’s questions when he was called on. 

The clock mercifully ticked its way to the end of the school day. Adrien felt a little more tethered to earth once the hefty weight of his backpack settled upon his shoulders. He quickly shot a text to his driver (for having such monstrous hands, the doofus still used a 90s flip phone) before approaching Marinette. She was blowing off something Alya had teased her with when he turned around in his seat to look at her. “Hey, Marinette?”

She turned to him, and there was an awkward moment of utter silence. Maybe she was confused? He was just about to open his mouth to explain that yes, he was trying to talk to her, because she’s super cool around everyone else and he wanted to see that side of her when she finally responded. “Hhhhhi,” she whispered out, as if he was one wrong sentence away from leaving her life forever. Smiling through the sudden feeling of being seen as some fragile porcelain, he tried to seem as natural as possible. 

“You’re probably walking back home soon, right? I’ve been craving a good macaron recently, so I was wondering if I could walk to your bakery with you?” He knew it was a little out of the blue, but he hoped the request would be casual enough. Maybe the natural routine of her route home would soothe her into some simple conversation…

“Yeah! Yup! Sure! Absolutely!” she nodded almost painfully, giving him a one handed thumbs up. He couldn’t help but smile a little wider at her enthusiasm, his cheeks turning red at the genuine happiness that rolled off of Marinette in thick waves. She was so intoxicating when she wasn’t self consciously guarded and garbled. 

“Great! Shall we?” He got up from his seat and shifted his backpack on his shoulders. It looked like Alya and Nino had already sneaked away during their conversation, so Marinette simply nodded and packed one last loose paper into her bag. 

The walk over started out as stiff as Marinette’s gait. Her legs shuffled forward as if made of wooden planks, and her shoulders looked frozen and tense. It took a little fumbling on Adrien’s part, but he accidentally hit gold when the topic of sewing came up.

“Okay, don’t even get me STARTED on the one time I accidentally picked up a spool of silk thread instead of my usual polyester thread when I was hand sewing a seam. I was experimenting with embroidering peter pan collars to add to this really sweet floral fabric I got, thank god I realized my mistake by the time I went to rethread my needle,” she rambled, her arms going from being glued to her sides to almost smacking Adrien in the face twice in one sentence. Adrien could not stop grinning rather stupidly, afraid to comment lest his voice would ruin the delicate spell.

Adrien highly considered pretending not to notice the bakery’s entrance approaching, and just walk on with Marinette babbling by his side. With a shot of adrenaline running through his entire body, he was jarringly reminded of his plans tonight. With a light guiding hand between her shoulder blades, he guided her through her own doorway, stopping her halfway through a detailed explanation of how she stabbed herself with a pin yesterday. 

That was it, time and space caught up to her and Adrien heartbreakingly watched as she clammed up against him, the muscles of her back knotting underneath his fingers. Adrien pulled away to look at the display cases, mentally debating between pistachio, raspberry, and champagne with peach filling. Marinette slipped behind the counter, tying a simple black apron around her petite waist. “The, uh, the raspberry has like me in it, I mean like weed, I MEAN LYCHEE! Lychee. In it.” Her face became red in direct proportion to the raising of her voice, and Adrien waited till she had calmed at least slightly before responding. 

“Can I have three of the raspberry and lychee? It’s been a while since I’ve had a flavor that isn’t pistachio.”

She held the macarons in her hands like they were delicate baby birds, tucking them into their tissue paper nest and depositing them into a simple, understated box. “Is p-pistachio your favorite?” she asked, making an obvious effort to look everywhere that weren’t his eyes. 

“Yeah, I really like nuts and salty things,” he offered, picking up the box from the counter and handing her some money. She rang it up in stifling silence; so different from the rant she gave mere minutes ago. “See you later?” he asked, depositing his change into his wallet.

“MHM!” she chirped out, her apron balled into her white knuckled hands. Her mouth was curved with an unnatural tightness, and she waved like the worlds most awkward Maneki-Neko. He smiled at the cat based imagery, waving goodbye to her as he pushed himself out the door.

Adrien walked down the street with a smile on his face and the tart taste of raspberry on his lips. He had yet to reach the lychee in the center, but he was okay with that. He had time. Texting his driver once more, he spotted a good landmark to stand by as he waited to be picked up. The day was quite beautiful, with a light breeze to play with his hair and a vibrant sun unhindered by clouds. Birds were singing in the trees that grew just slightly beyond the constraints of the sidewalk, and traffic slid down the paved roads like marbles down a smooth pipe. A stray black cat chased a ladybug down an alleyway, nimbly leaping from a trashcan lid to a pile of boxes in pursuit of the little red dot. Adrien watched for a moment, knowing that the ladybug would always be tantalizingly out of reach. There was something still amusing about the spectacle, as the cat scrambled unwaveringly up a drain before crouching on the gutter, eyes blown wide and laser-focused on its prey. 

He nibbled around the edges of his cookie, and dreamed about Notre Dame at 8 PM.


	3. In which things get heated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is an actual year later, I haven't been into ML for a long time but I remembered this story today and thought why not? What's 1000 words or so for funsies? So here this is, don't expect me to continue I guess.

Ladybug watched her feet swing haphazardly to and fro, her heels bouncing off the stone perch. Her fingers gripped the ledge on either side of her, the knuckles pulsing white with every tensed squeeze. Though her eyes were on the light-dotted horizon, Marinette’s mind was thinking about the taste of pistachio. A small bag of them leaned against her hip; the empty shells were starting to overpopulate the full ones.

“Oh good, you got a snack,” Chat’s voice intoned from below her. Leaning forward, she looked past her legs and slightly to the left. Chat was balancing precariously on his staff as he picked his way up the building, careful not to harm any of the ornate designs dotting the surface of the stone. 

“Want a lift?” She offered, pointing to her yo-yo. Chat shook his head in response, brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he picked his last jumping point. He vaulted upwards, landing with a thump about four feet from Ladybug. He overtly scooted closer, close enough to see details like how many dots showed against her red studs (five, to be exact). Chat’s leather tail slid back and forth behind him, making barely noticeable scraping sounds. 

The moment of silence between them felt alien but not unwanted. Neither could recall a time where they could simply exist around each other; so much of their relationship was dependent on kinetic action. Light bathed them on either side, but never truly reached them. Murmurs of the tourists below were completely muted at this height, and their bodies were obscured enough to feel private. A spotlight in the middle distance illuminated a billboard of Adrien, sporting a slightly tousled button-up and rolled sleeve against a simple white background. Gap displayed their brand proudly beside him, in sleek black lettering. In Chat’s eyes, the image was unappealingly plain. Instead of simplistic or elegant, it felt bland. 

Ladybug’s eyes were resting on the same billboard. Her interest was caught by the way Adrien’s eyes crinkled in his frozen laugh, revealing artfully hidden puffiness under his waterline, as if he got just shy of enough sleep that night. The silence was punctuated by her hand snaking into her bag, the plastic crinkling and bunching around her closed fist as she pulled out a pistachio. She popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Chat offered, turning his head to look at her. She mirrored the action, a small blush dusting her cheeks. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” A beat. “I was hoping you could help me with something.” She seemed obviously uncomfortable about the concept of asking for help, at least in this instance. Her hands were threaded together in her lap.

Chat’s ears pricked up in interest. “Of course! Anything you want.” The sincerity in his own voice made him internally flinch. Jesus, Chat, maybe try to not seem totally desperate for like five seconds? 

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Ladybug whispered more to herself than anything else. Her chest puffed up with a big gulp of air. With eyes screwed shut, she pushed out her words. “I’ve liked this boy for a long time and you always gave off the vibe of someone who is really good with romantic stuff so could you maybe give me tips on how to get him to like me?”

Chat’s face could only be described as internally screaming, his eyes wide and pupils thin as slits. “Run that by me one more time,” he said with as much monotone as he could muster. His voice almost broke into a slight shriek on the word “one.” 

“One time asking for help with flirting was embarrassing enough, thanks,” she quipped back, her burning face tucked securely behind her hands. 

“Wow.” Chat felt a little ill even considering helping some other guy who obviously didn’t deserve her. If Ladybug needed help to convince this guy to like her, then that is absolutely ridiculous. He couldn’t stop himself, the words poured out of his mouth. “Who is this guy that you like so much?” About three-fourths of Chat hoped that Ladybug wouldn’t answer. 

“Um, you see that Gap poster over there?” She pointed to the distant sign. “The model on that.” 

Chat froze. 

“His name is Adrien. I don’t know him very well but I’ve kind of admired him from afar? Not in a creepy way though, I just don’t really know how to approach him.”

When Ladybug turns to look at Chat Noir again, his face is absolute marble. His tail is still behind him, his ears pressed against his head. 

“Chat? What’s wrong?” He started to hollowly chuckle. 

“You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?” he bit back, pulling his legs up as if to leave. 

“Excuse me?” Ladybug scoffed, grabbing Chat’s arm so he couldn’t just jump and leave her. “I asked for your help, not a critique on my taste in guys.” Chat tensed underneath her grip. “What’s your deal? Do you have a bone to pick with Adrien or something?” Chat pulled away, putting distance between them but not leaving completely. 

“Yeah, I absolutely do! A lot of bones! At least ten bones, Ladybug.” His eyes reflected the floodlights, turning them for a moment into perfectly white discs. Chat starts counting on his fingers. “Adrien is spineless, unlikable, isolated, and speaks like he’s got a microphone shoved in his face. He’s been like that for years now.” He bit his lip to stop himself, tears pricking painfully at the edges of his eyes. It takes a lot of restraint to stop himself from letting go, letting her know that Chat is Adrien but so much better, an Adrien that is free to be himself and an Adrien that is super cool and makes puns. How can she not see that Chat is happy and Adrien is not? How can she not realize that one is objectively better than the other? 

Ladybug doesn’t look too happy, her arms hugged close to her chest and her chin obstinately sticking out into the night. “At least Adrien wouldn’t badmouth anyone the way you’re doing right now! Who cares if he’s any of the things you say he is, I still like him.” She lifted herself up, her silhouette towering over Chat’s still sitting frame, her pistachio bag cracking in the tight constraints of her fist. A beep in unison rings out from their jewelry, seemingly louder than either of their words. 

“This isn’t over,” Ladybug spits out coldly before falling off of the building and swinging into the distance, leaving Chat crouched in his archway. 

“I DON’T EVEN GET A COOL EXIT!” Chat screams into the night, the joke falling flat even on his own ears. Scuffing his boots against the stone, he pulled out his staff and made his own retreat. Only once he collapsed in his bed did he release himself from the costume, his body uncomfortably slumped in a heap on top of his down comforter. A part of him wanted to cry but he felt somehow that he couldn’t, his spine stiff and his mind completely reeling. Plagg floated around him somewhat awkwardly, his ears slightly drooped and his eyes like saucers. Without thinking, Adrien plucked Plagg from the air and pulled him close, fur tickling his neck. Only once he was sure Adrien was asleep, Plagg tugged himself out of Adrien's grip and snuck over to the kitchen to eat some cheese, all the while thinking about what the fight meant for the future of Ladybug and Chat. "This isn't good," he muttered to himself around a mouthful of camembert. "Not good at all."

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if I butcher any spelling, grammer, or syntax. Admittedly writing is not really my passion, visual art is, so I'm not really looking for critiques on my style or my propensity for run on sentences. I am looking to meet new people though, so if you liked this please don't hesitate to leave a comment! :D


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